


In-Between

by Mirimea



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Christmas, Christmas Party, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Gen, Gentleness, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Secret Crush, Sexual Content, Smut, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirimea/pseuds/Mirimea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Christmases of 2011-2013 are entirely different, yet never bad. </p><p>(Updated with a smutty side-fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In-Between

**Author's Note:**

> This was planned to be a proper Christmas fic, but in the end it became more of a snapshot of a specific time and place. I'm slightly tempted to make this a series of two or three, to cover a larger time-range, but we'll see. I'll keep it marked as a one-shot for the time being! Very light McPriceley and Arnold/Naba.

**December 2011**

Initially Connor had planned to try and make the holiday season as festive as possible for the other Elders, but then suddenly, Mafala’s years of efforts to try and bring a water engineer to the village finally pay off. The man arrives in the middle of December, armed with decent government funding and (to Connor) surprisingly simplistic tools and materials. When the villagers politely inquire if the Elders would like to help out with the well-digging process, none of them really have a reason to say anything but yes. And in the end, the project turns out to probably work better to raise their spirits than anything Connor might have come up with.

December is one of the hottest months that they have experienced so far, and also the driest. After the initial excitement of finding their new purpose in Kitguli, the amount of baptisms is starting to die down, and it’s difficult to remain optimistic when each of them get to shower, at most, once a week due to the water rationing. The house smells rank in a way that reminds Connor uncomfortably of the high school locker rooms and even Elder Price’s normally coiffed hair is mostly floppy and greasy nowadays (Connor takes a moment to feel ashamed of his mental complaints; they, at least, can afford to buy clean water for drinking instead of being forced to resort to the dirty swamps and streams like many of the villagers do).

“Back home we’d be decorating the tree by now,” Elder Price says thoughtfully between bites of the pasty-like stuffed bread they had been given as a thank you for helping out.

They're gathered in the shade of the trees to escape the worst midday glare of the sun while they rest and eat their lunch. They've borrowed some ratty shorts and shirts from the villagers to work in and Connor finds it entirely strange to see them all out of their mission uniforms, it makes them look younger, more like a ragtag team of boys than (semi)-Mormon missionaries out to spread the word of God. They're all covered in layers of dirt, too, though so far Elder Price has the worst of it, as the only one of them to have actually gone down the hole to dig. His arms and legs are smeared and there is mud drying in his hair.

“You and your talk about Christmas.” Nabulungi rolls her eyes. “You guys talk about nothing else right now.” She’s dressed in the same type of clothes as the rest of them. Some villagers had protested against her helping out with the digging, but Naba had snorted and pointed at Elder Poptarts. (“I am stronger than him, but you ask him to help”, she had said. And Poptarts had looked offended but had, Connor noted, not actually protested against her remark.)

“Well, it is an important holiday for us,” Connor points out. “It’s about family, and reflection, and being grateful…”

“Grateful of what?” Naba asks, seemingly stuck between wanting to be dismissive of their white-boy shenanigans and being genuinely curious, wrinkling her nose.  

Connor opens his mouth, then closes it and shrugs, because he really doesn’t feel like preaching at the moment. Besides, that’s Elder Cunningham’s duty nowadays, mostly. And Naba is one of the more devout followers nowadays, but she has regained her sense of practicality after the entire thing with the mission president went down.

"The best thing is the Christmas lights at the Temple Square," Elder Price continues wistfully, as though he hadn’t heard their exchange. "Oh, and the Christmas concert. I mean, we only went once 'cause it's so expensive, but it was great."

“Oh.” Connor perks up at the thought. “I always wanted to see that, but it was just too far for us to go.”

"You'd love it." Elder Price grins at him. "It's really flashy."

He looks so earnest that Connor can't help but smile back, butterflies beginning to flutter in his stomach, even though he wonders how in the world Elder Price knows what Connor may or may not like.

"I miss Christmas food," Elder Cunningham says then, and they all fall quiet as they contemplate that.  

"And snow," Connor adds after a moment when the thought of turkey with stuffing and gravy gets too bittersweet.

Nabulungi smiles, looking as wistful as Elder Price had done a moment ago. "I would like to see real snow someday."

"I'm sure you will," Elder Cunningham says loyally, and Nabulungi’s smile softens.

Most of the Elders have received Christmas packages from home by now, containing surprises of various expense and creativity. Elder Price, who has recently begun to develop a sense of self-consciousness and interest in how others might perceive him, had seemed somewhat embarrassed by the enormity of his package, though most of it had contained relatively unimaginative gifts from various relatives, and he had been pretty generous about sharing when it came to the candy and other practical everyday things. Elder Cunningham, on the other hand, must have asked his parents for it specifically beforehand, because he had received a pretty little snow globe which he had gifted to Naba immediately, too excited to wait until the twenty-fifth.

“Hey!” Mafala calls out to them. “Lunch break is over. We’ll reach the water level soon.”

Connor swallows the last bite of his lunch and stands, resigning himself to his turn to be lowered down the muddy hole.

* * *

 

Two days later it is the twenty-fifth of December, and the water is deep enough for them to start building the brick lining. It feels fundamentally wrong to work during Christmas day, but they need to finish everything in time before the water engineer leaves next week.

The atmosphere of the village is expectant, however, and by lunchtime they all call it a day and head home to scrub themselves as clean as they can in what water they can spare. It’ll be the Ugandans first Christmas celebration; and the birth of Jesus is one of few stories that Arnold knows and enjoys enough by itself not to have warped it very much.

“I never thought I’d be eating goat meat for Christmas dinner,” Elder Price says, somewhat ruefully to Connor during dinner, which they eat pressed together and bumping elbows at several tables gathered together outside in the shade of the trees. “And think it was a luxury!” The moment the words have left his mouth, he looks around, as if hit by the thought that someone might have heard and gotten offended; but Connor knows what he means.

“It tastes kind of like turkey though,” he offers between bites. “Maybe a bit chewier.”

Elder Price looks almost scandalized. “Not like any turkey I’ve ever had!”

Connor shrugs and doesn’t protest, even though he personally sticks by his sentiment. To his left, Elder Church is talking with the water engineer about something, and in front of him Naba and Elder Cunningham are trying their best not to flirt while in the presence of her father. He turns back to Elder Price. “So, what is Christmas usually like at your home?”

Price swallows his mouthful. “Well. Kind of like this, I guess, except with different food, and colder weather.”

“Really?”

“Sure. The house is full of people so it gets pretty loud. But we gather around to pray the night before, and then we open gifts in the morning and go to mass before dinner.” He makes a gesture with his hand. “I think I like this better, though.”

Connor feels his eyes widen; he looks around the table. At the far end, some of the men, including the general, are getting inebriated and louder than necessary. “Really?” he repeats.

“Yeah.” Elder Price scratches his neck, grinning sheepishly. “It feels more genuine, you know? Meaningful.”

Connor feels his heart swell, and he tells himself it’s only because he’s proud of how much Price has grown since he arrived.

“You’re such an idealist,” he teases, poking Elder Price’s elbow with his own.

Elder Price looks surprised. “I guess? Aren’t you?”

Connor doesn’t think he is, not really. He’s dutiful, and a bit of a dreamer sometimes perhaps, but he doesn’t have the same feeling of grand inspiration and hope that Elder Price seems to have, at least, most of the time. He shrugs. “Well, someone has to keep you grounded, right?”

Elder Price makes a face. “I’ll keep Elder Cunningham grounded, if you’ll keep me grounded.”

Connor can’t help but smile at that. “Deal.”

And Elder Price smiles back, wide and genuine, and there are the butterflies in Connor’s stomach again; he feels heat rise on his cheeks but pretends to himself it is just the warm weather taking its toll.

Beside him, Elder Church mutters something quietly under his breath, and Connor thinks he might hear the word ‘kiss’ and ‘already’, but he is probably mistaken.

“I’m sorry?” he says politely, turning to him, but Elder Church blinks back, face carefully neutral.

* * *

 

Connor excuses himself sometimes after midnight. He navigates through the hallway in the darkness, but when he passes the living room he notices a figure streched out on the couch.

“The bedroom windows are facing the party tables,” the figure warns, and Connor recognizes Elder Price’s voice. “Thank you for teaching them all those Christmas songs, by the way.”

Because Elder Cunningham has somehow forgotten to include a restriction on the intake of alcohol in his new religion, the level of inebriation had increased as the night went on. And at one point, Connor had decided to just make the best of it and teach the Ugandans the words to his favorite Christmas carols; it is no Christmas without Christmas music after all. It had helped to make the party even louder, but at least it is now loud with _style_.

 “Oh,” Connor says. “You’re welcome.”

“Now it is _definitely_ like all Christmas parties back home,” Price groans. “Silent Night, on repeat, for _ever_.”

Connor walks over to sit down beside him on the couch, forcing Elder Price to move his legs to make space for him. “Tired?”

“You could say that. Do these people even care that we have to continue working tomorrow?”

“Probably not as much as you do.” Connor pats his legs, which are still stretched out to occupy most of the couch. He should be heading to bed, he thinks, but he can hear the party sounds even through the walls, muffled as they may be, and he can imagine that it’s going to be worse in the bedrooms. “You’re sleeping here tonight then?”

“Mad that I thought of it first?” Elder Price grins at him through the dark, looking pleased with himself. “Elder Church and Elder Neely both tried to use their senior privileges to kick me off.”

“I would never abuse my power like that,” Connor states, and shuffles to make himself more comfortable. He’s pretty good at sleeping while he is sitting up, and the couch is pretty good for that, actually. “I might make you share, however.”

“The couch isn’t big enough for that,” Elder Price protests; he pokes Connor’s thigh with his bare foot. “I need my leg room. Hey.”

Connor had planned to pretend to sleep through Elder Price’s protests, but Price gives it up relatively soon, with a sigh and a shuffle to move into a more comfortable position that accommodates the lack of space. And soon, Connor is drifting off, chased into his dreams by the muffled, slightly off-key rendition of ‘Silent Night’.

* * *

 

The water engineer leaves them a couple of days later, after a few hours of teaching them all the proper management of their new well. It truly is a blessing to have it finished; from what Connor hears, they will soon be entering the driest months of the year. They have an opening ceremony of sorts where they all get to taste the water, and Gotswana and Mafala hold an impromptu speech together which they finish with the words “And Merry Christmas!”

And Connor stands on the side and thinks that this has not been the Christmas either of them could have imagined, but Elder Price does have a point; it is certainly not _bad_.


	2. A Little Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another little snapshot in what will become a trilogy. Here's to hoping I'll get the last part out before Christmas!

**December 2012**

Home doesn’t feel real anymore, and Connor is almost convinced that snow is merely an abstract concept. But in less than one month’s time he will have to face both of those things, and he’s not sure how to feel about that.

Sure, he likes colorful scarves and hot chocolate, and he used to miss his parents and his cat until he got too used to not having them around. But when you lose some you gain some, because now, Connor can’t imagine life without checking his shoes for bugs and spiders before putting them on, without preparing breakfast along with Elder Thomas in the mornings, without stealing kisses from his boyfriend whenever they can manage to find a private moment together. ****

But at least Connor knows what Kevin thinks about him going home, even though he doesn’t say it, and that’s strangely comforting. His boyfriend has never been too good at hiding his feelings, after all, and when he is moody it shows in the way he presses his lips together when he is hit by an unpleasant thought, the way he fiddles with his hands when he doesn’t know how to express his feelings, and the way he actually inches away when Connor tries to touch him. Connor tries not to feel hurt by that particular habit, because sometimes Kevin is just strange about being touched.

That is why, when he finds his boyfriend alone on the couch in the common room that evening, he sits down a respectable three or four inches away.

“Got anything good from your family this year?” Connor asks. They had gone to the nearest post office this afternoon and several of the elders’ Christmas packages had arrived. Kevin’s had been considerably smaller this year than last year, as though his relatives had started to forget Kevin is still on his mission (or possibly because they disagree with what he’s turned his mission into), but it is still comparatively large. Most of the candy packages are still spread out on the kitchen table for anyone to take.

Kevin shrugs. “The usual, I guess. The letters were the best.”

Connor leans down to pull off his shoes, then lifts his feet to curl up properly on the couch. The other missionaries should be in bed by now, so he feels entitled to slack off a bit. The lamp they keep in one of the windows gives a warm shine to the room, and he and Kevin have spent many evenings out here exploring each other, both figuratively and literally. “Anyone write anything fun?”

Kevin shrugs again, and Connor has to suppress a frustrated sigh because Kevin is seriously giving him nothing to work with here. He leans back and they sit in silence for a moment. Connor had planned to get Kevin a gift for Christmas this year, but there’s nothing really interesting at the local market, and he can’t exactly ask his parents to send him something that he can give to his boyfriend. In the end, they had decided to simply skip the concept of gifts altogether.

“Next year we should go ice-skating at Christmas,“ Connor says as the thought hits him.

Kevin looks up. “I hate ice-skating,” he says, but he sounds intrigued nonetheless.

Connor mock-gasps. “What is there to hate?”

“It’s cold, it’s unsteady and it hurts to fall.”

“Sounds like you’re just a bad skater.” Connor pokes his arm and grins at Kevin’s glare, feels strangely encouraged by it. He shuffles closer and moves around to face him. “We should get snowed in together, too. And make Christmas cookies.”

“You have such strange fantasies.”

Connor ducks his head to hide his blush, because he might have overdosed on a specific type of romantic movies when he was a teenager. “Well! Don’t you have any fantasies? And not related to Orlando,” he adds.

Kevin closes his mouth, looks sheepish. “That’s not fair.”

He seems more relaxed now, at least, so Connor feels like he should be allowed to kiss him. And Kevin doesn’t protest, instead places a hand on Connor’s shoulder as he responds to it.

It’s so easy to kiss him now, like they can both predict each other’s movements and responses. Their first kisses had held a particular charm of excited almost-euphoria, but Connor actually thinks this is better because it can be anything they want it to be.

But today, the kiss turns forceful in a way Connor doesn’t recognize. He pulls away and is surprised by the look on Kevin’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Kevin drops his hand from Connor’s shoulder, ducks his head. “Don’t… forget about me, okay? When you go home.”

The idea that  _anyone_  can forget about Kevin Price is almost laughable. But then, Kevin might have an enormous ego when it comes to certain things, but is still insecure about the strangest things. “You don’t  _actually_ think I will, right?”

Kevin actually flushes. “Well, you’ll have the entire _world_.”

“The world of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania isn’t that interesting. I’d rather stay here.”

Oh.

Just like that, Connor realizes exactly how he feels about going home. The thought has been so distant, but now, in the face of Kevin’s distress, it hits him. He’s actually going to leave all of this behind. Something prickles in his chest. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.”

“I’m actually going back to Pennsylvania. In  _January_.”

“I know.” Kevin looks at him quizzically, almost like he thinks Connor might be making fun of him.

Connor leans back on the couch. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t want you to, either.” His voice is so soft, he sounds almost shy.

Connor sighs and moves to lean against him. He looks around in the kitchen and common room area that has been his home away from home over the past two years. They don’t have much in the way of Christmas decorations except for some things they’ve crafted from colorful paper and the odd gadgets that some of their parents had sent. But they’ve cleaned up properly in preparation for Christmas, at least, and tomorrow they’ll gather together to pray together in the evening. Then there’ll be a Christmas celebration on the twenty-fifth, just like last year, except now they’ve had time to prepare it all through December. It’ll be lovely.

“Mistletoe,” Connor says, surprising himself by breaking the silence that has settled between the two of them. ”I wish we had mistletoe. We’ll have to have that, too, next year.”

Kevin is silent for a moment; Connor can feel his chest move as he breathes. “We don’t actually need it though,” he points out.

“True.” Connor smiles a little. “But it’s fun. We should have it.”

“Next year,” Kevin echoes. He smiles back.


	3. Familiarity

**December 2013**

Kevin had offered to pick them up at the nearest bus stop, which is a relief because to a stranger the rows of neat suburban houses look eerily similar and Connor wouldn’t particularly enjoy trying to find his way to a specific one without a guide. Instead he huddles into his coat, glad for his scarf and his gloves. It is a clear, cold evening, and with the thin layer of snow it would have been beautiful if Connor had enough peace of mind to enjoy it. Beside him, Arnold is audibly shuddering from the cold, blowing into his hands to keep them warm ad it’s just so typically him to forget his gloves on the bus.

The two of them had met up at the train station, and Connor had been pleasantly surprised by how nice it had been to meet the former Elder Cunningham again. It is almost a year since Connor had said goodbye to them all and stepped onto the bus to the airport, and Kevin is the only one that Connor has kept in frequent contact with. Arnold might be a bit thinner and his hair shorter, but he is still the same old awkward, cheerful guy that Connor had gotten to know back in Uganda, and it’s just so good to know that some things don’t change.

“So how’s college?” he ask while he scans the roads, unsure of from which direction Kevin will appear. The streets are quiet and empty, and the lights in the houses around them are lit. Somehow it is both lonely and freeing to be outside of it all. Maybe they could take a bus somewhere instead, just the three of them, Connor thinks wistfully.

Arnold stomps his feet, as if he is trying keep them from going numb. “Fine. Kind of empty without my mission companion, you know?” His shoulders slump, his voice taking on a wistful tone that makes him sound older. “And Naba of course.”

Connor feels his heart sink a little at the reminder. “Yes. I know.” But at least there is something comforting about knowing that someone else appears to miss Uganda in the same way as Connor does. If not the country in itself, at least the sense of companionship they had all felt there.

He and Kevin talk to each other on the phone practically every evening, now that Kevin is back in the States again, but it doesn’t make up for the easy relationship they had back in Uganda, before Connor’s two years had come to an end. Connor truly enjoys college and the classes he is taking, but he misses having Kevin nearby, misses being able to sneak kisses from each other when they find a private moment together. He misses their casual touches, and most of all, he misses being able to sort of take Kevin for granted. But Kevin has only been back for a few months and is still trying to settle back into life at home. He will begin to take classes at the BYU after Christmas, and Connor can’t very well ask him to uproot his life once again simply because Connor can’t seem to function properly on his own anymore.

Furthermore, Kevin’s family had called dibs on where Kevin chose to spend the holidays. Which is fair, seeing as how he’s been away from his family for the past two years, but Connor had still secretly fantasized about a weekend alone together in say, New York City or, to make Kevin happy, maybe even Orlando. Him and Arnold both attending the yearly Price household Christmas party is probably more realistic in comparison, but it will be an entirely new situation and something about it all is nagging it him, something that is not quite unpleasant but certainly not thoroughly enjoyable either. Connor tries to chalk it up to the fact that he will meet his, practically, parents-in-law for the first time. No one is truly relaxed about something like that, right?

Connor straightens as a tall figure dressed in a dark coat appears from one of the nearby streets, and the way he walks is so fundamentally _familiar_ that Connor can feel something pleasant bubble up in his chest.

“Sorry I’m late,” Kevin says as he approaches them and Connor’s excitement over meeting his boyfriend for the first time in _months_ is dulled only by the strange, almost pinched expression he notices on Kevin’s face. “I was—well. It’s not far to walk. Ommph!”

The last exclamation is due to the way Arnold has launched himself at Kevin, wrapping him in what appears to be a somewhat overenthusiastic embrace. “Hey, buddy!”

“Hi,” Kevin says in a strained voice, but then his eyes soften as he grins down at his former mission companion. Absurdly, Connor feels a pang of jealousy pierce through his chest.

He takes a step forward, adjusting his scarf and for a quick moment he feels almost self-conscious. Other than the unfamiliar look in his eyes, Kevin looks great, as usual. His skin is slowly losing the two-year tan he had developed in Uganda, and his hair appears darker, and the difference is at once both a little intriguing and strange. “Hey.”

Kevin pats Arnold on the back one last time before detaching himself, stepping away. He finally meets Connor’s eyes, and any shyness Connor might have felt is blown away by the sheer _relief_ he sees in Kevin’s eyes. “Hi.”

Connor thinks his face might break, but he really can’t seem to stop smiling. His insides feel warm. “I missed you.”

Perhaps a bit too aware of Arnold watching them, they don’t kiss. Instead, Kevin wraps his arms around Connor in a hug, and that there is the best part of Connor’s entire month, so far. Even through their heavy coats, he feels Kevin’s hug like a warming blanket around the weariness he feels in preparation for tonight; he wraps his arms around Kevin’s waist and squeezes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kevin murmurs over his shoulder; Connor can feel his breath against his cheek. “I’ll… tell you later, okay?”

Connor nods slightly, lets his head rest against Kevin’s shoulder just for a moment. “Sure.”

Too soon they have to let go of each other, but Kevin reaches for Connor’s gloved hand and doesn’t let go as he leads them down the road. It turns out to be pretty easy to pick out the right house thanks to the amount of cars that are parked in the driveway and along the road nearby. It is a very unremarkable house, to be honest with a white picket fence around the yard and perhaps a tad more Christmas lights than is completely tasteful.

Before the front door, Kevin slows down, then stops completely and turns to look at them, letting go of Connor’s hand.

“Um,” he says, and Connor feels his heart sink because there is _something_ in his voice. “Just a thing before we go inside. My dad is kind of… not acknowledging, well, _us_ , right now.” He meets Connor’s eyes, then glances away. “My relatives are nice, but some of them may not be prepared for it.”

Connor shifts his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably, oddly aware of Arnold’s confusion because Arnold may be completely fine with the two of them together, but it is still so _strange_ to talk about things like these where he can hear. And Connor knows that Kevin has had some issues with his parents lately, but he’s been strangely quiet about it over the phone. “You’re not telling me to tone it down, are you?”

Kevin’s eyes widen in surprise. “Jeez, no! I just wanted to warn you that, well, things might get uncomfortable, I guess.” He bites his lip, looks uncertain. “I realized just before I left to get you that at least my uncle has no idea that I have a boyfriend. They think it’s just two good friends that will be visiting.”

“Oh.” He’s not sure if he should feel relieved or concerned. Connor has done his fair share of trying to turn things off and in retrospect it has never worked particularly well for him. He reaches out to take Kevin’s hand again, squeezing it quickly. “It’s fine. I’m kind of used to it.”

Kevin grimaces. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

“I can distract people if you want,” Arnold pipes up, effectively distracting them from each other. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at that.”

“You are.” One corner of Kevin’s mouth tilts up in a rueful but amused half-grin. “My family won’t know what hit them.”

With that, he lets go of Connor’s hand and opens the front door.

They are greeted welcome by the sound of slow-paced Christmas music and people talking and laughing from somewhere further in the house. Connor looks around curiously to try and get a grasp of Kevin’s childhood home, but he can’t help but find it strangely anonymous. His heart flutters when Kevin helps him out of his jacket, like an old-fashioned gentleman.

“Was that the boys?” he hears a voice say from within the house, and then a young woman appears around the corner. “Hi, welcome.”

Connor waves, a little awkwardly, because Kevin is too busy putting their coats away to introduce them. “Hello.”

She squints at him, and then at Arnold. “You must be Kevin’s companion,” she says to Arnold, then. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“He talks about me?” Arnold asks enthusiastically, as he unwraps his scarf.

The woman looks a little surprised by his loudness, eyebrows raised, and she opens her mouth to respond, but Kevin beats her to it.

“Sure I do, buddy.” Kevin closes the door to the walk-in closet and joins them. “Hey Larisa. This is Arnold Cunningham, and Connor McKinley. And this is Larisa, my cousin.”

“Pleasure,” she says daintily, but the look she throws Connor’s way is just bordering on sly. She appears to be around their age, or possibly a little older, with her long brown hair loose around her shoulders. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

Connor smiles politely and resists the nervous urge to ask if it was all good or all bad. Luckily, Kevin interrupts him before he has the time for any cheesy replies.

“Come on, let’s head inside,” he says, grabbing both Arnold and Connor by the elbows, pulling them along. Connor glances over his shoulder; Larisa waves to him, cheerfully.

Groups of people are scattered in the living room, holding glasses or plates with hors d'oeuvres, and if it hadn’t been for the Christmas music and the garish holiday sweaters and ties that some people are wearing, it would have looked more like a cocktail party than a Christmas celebration, except Connor can only assume that the drinks are nonalcoholic. He suddenly feels out of place, because this is not an environment that he is entirely used to; but he is comforted by the somewhat mean realization that Arnold, in a simply sweater and jeans, looks rather underdressed in a way that at least Connor isn’t.

“Right,” Kevin says, coming to a halt at the nearest group of people, and it’s only because Connor knows him so well that he can tell that he’s trying hard to hide his anxiety. “This is Uncle Rob, Uncle Mike, Aunt Maria, and Liam and Claire are my cousins.”

“Nice to meet you,” Connor says politely to the group of strangers.

“You’re Kevin’s friends from his mission, right?” The tall man that Kevin had called his Uncle Mike says, stepping forward to shake their hands. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Fine,” Connor says, uncertain how to put all those feelings into words for the sake of a complete stranger. It brings the conversation to a halt, however, and there are a few seconds of semi-awkward silence before another man walks up to join their group.

“These are your friends, son?” he asks, and the joviality in his voice has a bit of an edge as he studies the two of them, his eyes staying on Connor a few seconds too long to be completely natural. He straightens his tie self-consciously and wonders if anyone else notices.

“Yes dad,” Kevin replies with uncharacteristic mildness that has Connor wanting to reach out to take his hand again, reassuringly. But under the circumstances, he understands that it would probably makes the situation even worse.

“Nice to meet you again, Mr. Price!” Arnold says, loudly and in a tone of voice that makes it obvious that he’s a bit nervous. Mr. Price blinks and turns back to Arnold.

“You too… Arnold, right?” He glances between Kevin and Arnold. “I heard your time in Uganda has been interesting.”

“It certainly was,” Arnold exclaims, glancing at Connor and Kevin with wide eyes that may or may not hold a bit of panic. “If you show me where I can get some of those cracker things, I can tell you _all_ about it.”

“Right.” Kevin’s dad looks a little bemused at that, but politeness keeps him from saying anything about it. He begins to lead Arnold away, and when Connor glances at Kevin, he sees his boyfriend stare at the retreating backs with a look that appears both fascinated and horrified. Then he seems to snap himself out of it, shaking his head.

They make a bit of small-talk with the group of people that Connor had been introduced to and that obviously have no idea that Connor is Kevin’s boyfriend. But they’re nice people, really, polite and friendly and eager to make him feel welcome. Then, Kevin is called away to help out with the arrangement of some tables and Connor finds himself left alone as the group scatters. He glances around, but Arnold is still nowhere to be seen, and Connor doesn’t quite feel up to introducing himself to anyone else.

Instead he finds himself drawn to the photo-covered wall at the end of the room. It starts as a way to entertain himself, but then he finds himself engrossed in exploring the photos for pictures of his boyfriend through the years, starting with a collage of baby pictures featuring all of the Price children. It’s not too difficult to pick out Kevin among all of them, Connor thinks. There may be similarities between the siblings, but there is just something about the expression in his eyes, the slope of his nose, that makes it obvious which one of Kevin out of all the babies. Along the wall there is a variety of school portraits, sports achievements and graduation photos. In the last one that Connor finds of Kevin he is smiling broadly and wearing a stark white, freshly pressed missionary uniform, looking excited and proud. Seeing him so _happy_ tugs at his heart. It had been just before everything had gotten so complicated, for all of them, but maybe that is just the process of growing up.

 “I like your tie.”

Connor looks down at the young girl that has appeared by his elbow. She appears to be around seven or eight, and she is dressed in a pink dress with plenty of lace that isn’t particularly tasteful, perhaps, but it is certainly endearing. The shape of her eyes and her thick, brown hair makes it pretty obvious who she is related to, and Connor guesses that this must be Kevin’s youngest sister Grace.

“Thank you.” He runs a hand over the purple fabric of his newest tie; e hadn’t been able to resist buying it. “I like your dress.”

She beams up at him and wow, her resemblance to Kevin in that moment is almost uncanny; he can’t help but like her “Almost like Sleeping Beauty’s, right?”

“Right,” he agrees, trying to remember what her dress had looked like in the movie.

She is quiet for a moment, biting her lip as she studies him, and Connor resists the urge to straighten his clothes, because who becomes intimidated by the gaze of a seven-year-old, really? “You’re Kevin’s _boyfriend_ , right?” she says then.  

Connor blinks at her, then glances around because she hadn’t been quiet, exactly. A few nearby people are giving them curious looks, but he recognizes none of them, has no idea who they are.

“You’re not supposed to talk about that.” A young man appears around the corner. He’s thin and both blonder and shorter than Kevin, but Connor still recognizes him to be his brother Jack. He pulls at Grace’s ponytail lightly, then looks up, smiling a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

“But Kevin likes to talk about him,” Grace protests, pulling her ponytail free.

“Don’t make dad mad,” Jack warns her, but Grace simply huffs and walks away, her little lack shoes clicking against the floor. Jack rolls his eyes, then seems to remember that Connor is still beside him.

“Hi,” Connor says. “I guess you know who I am.”

“Yeah…” Jack looks around as is searching for an escape route, while Connor goes through his memory trying to find something, anything that Kevin has told him about his brother that could be used in polite conversation.

Thankfully, their awkward silence is interrupted by their one common ground. Kevin appears, leading a flustered-looking Arnold out from the kitchen.

“Hey, Jack,” he calls out when he spots the two of them. “Mom’s looking for you.”

“Sure,” Jack calls back, offers Connor an apologetic, but surprisingly genuine half-smile, and heads down from where Kevin and Arnold had come.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Arnold says to Kevin, still looking a bit on edge. “Your dad is very… Mormon.”

“And your brother is a bit… strange,” Connor adds.

“He’s just shy,” Kevin says absent-mindedly as he glances around the room, then looks back at the two of them. His eyes are a bit wide and Connor can tell that he’s getting stressed out. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach, for, well, he’s not sure exactly. For not being better to soothe Kevin’s nerves perhaps. Or for not being better at calming _himself_ down and involving himself in Kevin’s family.

“Maybe you can show us your room?” Connor suggests after a moment as the thought hits him, and Kevin brightens.

“Sure! Come on, it’s upstairs.”

He leads them up the stairs, the Christmas music growing fainter as they get further away from the living room.

“It still feels strange to be back in it,” Kevin says as he opens one of the bedroom doors and turns the light on. Connor and Arnold follow him inside. The room is pretty neat, without much clutter, but Connor looks around curiously nonetheless because something about it still feels, almost _smells_ like something that is inherently Kevin. He sits down on the bed as he looks at the posters on the walls There are a few posters on the walls, both religious pictures and a few from movies.

Arnold, looking through the contents of the bookcase, looks up. “Your DVD collection is terrible.”

“They’re old,” Kevin shoots back, but he doesn’t sound bothered by the comment. “Besides, no one watches DVDs nowadays, anyway.”

“But it’s all Disney and Pixar.”

Kevin shrugs, but he looks more relaxed than he had downstairs, and joins Connor on the bed. Connor glances at him and the sudden flash of a thought of making out with him, right here in Kevin’s childhood bed, and it stirs up a rather inappropriate feeling inside of him that he quenches the best he can because that’s just naughty. But it has been so _long_. If only Arnold hadn’t been in the room with them, he thinks, wistfully. He’s not sure if Kevin would have liked it either way, high strung as he seems to be tonight, but at least Connor could have tried to initiate something. Maybe it would have done both of them good.

But either way it is a relief to get away from all the unfamiliar faces for a moment. They talk for a while, mostly old memories and about what the others are doing nowadays. Finally, Kevin looks at his wrist watch and sighs. “I guess we should go back downstairs again. Can’t hide up here forever.”

They leave the room, and Connor at least feels comfortable enough up here to finally take Kevin’s hand again and hold it. Kevin slows down, looks up at him and smiles, eyes softening as Arnold gives them a glance, hesitates and then begins to head down the stairs alone.

“I’m sorry that it’s nothing like we talked about,” Kevin says, and Connor blinks, has to think for a moment before he remembers.

“That’s fine,” he says, squeezing Kevin’s hand. “It’s too cold to go ice-skating, anyway. And hey.” He smiles despite himself as he gestures towards the mistletoe that’s hanging in the archway that separates the stairs from the corridor upstairs.

“Oh,” Kevin says, looking hesitant but smiling nonetheless. “That’s always there.”

Connor pokes him with his elbow. “That’s cute.”

“Not when you’ve seen your parents smooch under it every year.”

Connor lets out an amused breath of air. “Did you really just say ‘smooch’?”

Kevin grimaces at him, but allows Connor to pull him to stand underneath the mistletoe. They simply look at each other for a moment, standing closer than they have all evening, and even with the muffled sounds of Christmas music and people talking downstairs somehow invading on their privacy, Connor can feel how the world shifts to align itself correctly again, as though something undefined has been wrong this entire night. Apparently, everything that was needed was to spend a moment alone with Kevin.

“I miss you,” he says quietly, taking Kevin’s other hand as well while they face each other.

“You too,” Kevin says, and leans down to kiss him for the first time that night. And it has been months since they last did this, but it still feels so incredibly familiar, almost comforting. It’s sweet and not meant to lead to anything else, but Connor still feels his skin begin to buzz pleasantly as he lets go of Kevin’s hands to place one on his back and the other on the back of his neck, running his fingertip over the smooth skin there. There is a faint smell of aftershave that is unfamiliar, but it’s nice. In that moment, _everything_ is just very nice.

“Oh,” a feminine voice says from the stairs, and they break apart; Connor feels his face begin to burn and looks down to see an unfamiliar woman, one foot placed on the bottom step as if she had planned to head upstairs. Her eyes are wide with shock.

“Hi mom,” Kevin says quietly, and Connor mentally moans, because really?

“I was going to ask if you boys wanted to help with the dessert,” she says, wringing her hands, and the part of Connor’s mind that is not screaming at him to hide his face in his hands is fascinated by the resemblance between Kevin and his mother, in the way they hold themselves, certainly, but mostly in the shape of their eyes and the way they press their lips together when they are uncomfortable. Then, Mrs. Price glances down towards the living room, apparently hesitating and then begins to head up the stairs towards them. “I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself yet. I’m Anna. Kevin’s mother.”

They step back to let her up and Connor wishes he could force his cheeks to stop burning. He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Connor McKinley.”

“I gathered,” she says, her tone just a little dry, and looks at his hand for a second, but before Connor has had the time to feel discouraged he finds himself pulled into a hug. It’s a polite hug between strangers, certainly, but she squeezes him a bit closer before she lets go. “I think we should call ourselves family now, right?”

“Right,” Connor echoes faintly, and glances at Kevin for support. But Kevin simply looks at them, uncharacteristically speechless, until Mrs. Price turns towards him. They look at each other for a moment, as if communicating something that Connor doesn’t understand, and then she pulls her son into a tighter, much more familiar embrace. Kevin has to bend down to hug his mother, and both Connor and Mrs. Price pretend not to hear the way his breath hitches.

“I’m sorry if tonight is strange,” Mrs. Price says genuinely when they step apart. “We’ll need some time, I think.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, and Connor thinks his voice sounds a bit weak. He takes a breath and raises a hand to fix his hair, which is mother had ruffled during their embrace.

Mrs. Price nods at them and offers a small smile. “Join me in the kitchen in a bit?”

Both Kevin and Connor nod obediently at that, and Mrs. Price heads downstairs again. They watch her go, her high heels clicking against the steps. When Connor glances back at Kevin again, he catches him rub at his eyes quickly, but pretends not to see.

“That was… good, right?” he asks quietly.

“Yes.” Kevin clears his throat. “It was.”

“You up for going downstairs again? Arnold has to wonder where we disappeared to.”

He takes a deep breath that doesn’t sound as shaky as before. “Sure.”

Kevin takes his hand as they walk downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the final part of my mini-Christmas trilogy (but now I sort of want to see a tiny domestic sequel as well, ahhh, we'll see). Either way. For me Christmas is tomorrow, so, you know, Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you have a good one! ♥


	4. Familiarity 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smutty little addition to the last chapter. Thoughts and comments are always appreciated. :) (Note that I usually preach safe sex, but in my mind these boys are each others' one and only, alright?)

There are many things that Connor can say about Kevin’s family, but mostly, they’re _nice_. It is honestly the most wholesome gathering of people that he has ever been around, probably, yet somehow fulfilling every cliché and expectation of a Mormon family that anyone might ever have. And it is not really that bad, even though half of them don’t recognize that Connor is Kevin’s boyfriend, even though half of them had raised their eyebrows at Connor’s purple tie, because apparently that had been a somewhat ‘unconventional’ choice. None of them are _intentionally_ mean, however, and in Connor’s book that is the most important thing. He knows that Kevin is not satisfied with that, however. Kevin has never really been satisfied with anything that is poorly conceived.

The air mattress groans under Connor’s weight as he crawls under the covers and rolls over to face his boyfriend. “Are you okay?”

Kevin has one arm folded under his head, eyes focused on some vague spot on the floor until Connor speaks to him. “I’m fine,” he says then, with a tone of voice that sounds anything but.

“Can I come over?” Connor asks and Kevin merely blinks, which he decides to take as being granted permission. The air mattress isn’t that comfortable, anyway. He slips out from under the covers and Kevin’s old twin-size bed the bed is so close, he doesn’t even have to take a proper step between them. Kevin shuffles closer to the wall, and that gives Connor a warm spot under the covers to stretch out in. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kevin replies, face close to Connor’s, and there is something so fundamentally _right_ about being close like this. His scent is familiar, somewhat masked by the smell of shampoo and after-shave and what might even be moisturizer. His breathing is calm, and Connor finds himself unconsciously matching it. “Sorry today was a little--”

“It was fine,” Connor interrupts. “I mean, we’re here now.”

“That’s true.” Kevin closes his eyes, and Connor watches him, the way his eyelashes touch his cheeks, the faint wrinkle still present between his eyebrows, and the stitch of desire from before appears again. He debates with himself whether he feels too comfortable to want to try anything else, but then Kevin sleepily reaches out to rest his arm over Connor’s waist, and that mere touch does something to him, allows the tingle to spread under his skin.

He shifts beneath the covers, licks his lips. It’s been so long since they did this. “Hey. Want to--”

Kevin opens his eyes, takes a moment to focus, then shifts away. “My parents are next door.”

And Arnold is sleeping on the other side, Connor could add, but is kind enough not to. “And back in Uganda we had Thomas and Church.”

Kevin makes a face at the reminder. “Do you even have…?”

“Lube?” Connor asks. “It’s in my bag.”

Kevin sighs, but his pupils are big, and Connor knows that it is a sign that he is starting to, well, to _imagine_. And that is always the first step for them. “Can we—I don’t--”

Connor kisses him. Lying on their sides makes it an awkward angle at best, but Kevin responds to it, moving his hand from Connor’s waist to his cheek, making a soft sound against his lips. And it has been so _long_ , Connor’s body can’t help but react to the warmth and the proximity. From the way Kevin moves his hips, he thinks he might be feeling the same thing despite his voiced trepidation.

“I’ll get it,” Connor says once they break apart, sticking his feet out from beneath the covers to scurry over to his bag. The air feels cool while he searches his bag, then he finally finds the small bottle which he grips tightly in his hand and hurries back to the bed again.

“Your house is really cold,” he mutters, entangling his legs with Kevin’s. “You should consider improving the isolation. Or raise the temperature.”

“My dad doesn’t like when it’s too warm,” Kevin says absent-mindedly, then stops himself and makes a face. “Wait, I don’t want to talk about my parents right now.”

“Then don’t.” Connor shuffles closer, lets his body relax into the heat again, slipping one hand under the covers to rest on Kevin’s hips. He has started to wear regular boxer briefs, which is new. Back in Uganda it had been nothing but temple garments. But Connor certainly doesn’t mind this type of changes. He traces his fingers over the front, notes that Kevin is already half-hard. “Can I…?”

“Mhm.” Kevin raises his hip slightly, allowing Connor to tug his underwear down. “Tell me why you think this is a good idea, again?”

“You’re handsome,” Connor says. “And it’s been ages since the last time we did this.” He traces his fingers over Kevin’s bare hip, still covered by the duvet, while Kevin shifts and kicks the underwear off completely.

“Good point,” he says, smiling slightly. He is already starting to develop a proper bedhead, and the sight is as endearing as it is hot. Almost shyly, he slips his arm over Connor’s waist again, playing with the hemline of the t-shirt that he sleeps in.

Connor tries not to shiver at the faint touch, shuffles closer, and kisses Kevin’s forehead. “Do you want to?”

They don’t do it like this very often, but now Kevin only hesitates for moment, then rolls over without a comment, spreading his legs, and Connor thinks that his face and neck might be a bit redder than usual. He is still covered by the duvet, and Connor would really prefer to be able to _see_ , but with the cool temperature in the room and the suspicion that Kevin might feel the need to keep some sense of privacy still, he decides not to protest. He can imagine the sight just as well, today.

He uncaps the bottle that he has been warming in his fist, coating his fingers carefully before slipping his hand beneath the covers. He tries to make sure not to smear too much against the sheets, mindful of that fact that some family member is probably going to be washing these sheets at a later date.

There is a tingling beneath his skin centering at the bottom of his stomach that drives him, keeps him from feeling awkward while he traces Kevin’s body down to his buttocks. Kevin’s body tenses up for the slightest of moments while Connor spreads his cheeks with his hand, tracing with his fingers until he finds what he is looking for.

It is so weird, in a way. It is such a strange thing to do, but there is something so inherently hot about it, about the way Kevin’s body seems to react to Connor’s simple touches, and Connor is aware of the sweet way his own body is responding to all this. He aches for someone to touch him, as well, but somehow the need to keep touching Kevin wins over, along with the promises it brings for the future.

Kevin makes an odd sort of whimper into the pillow when Connor pushes with the tip of his finger, he goes stiff and still, and Connor moves his finger slowly to help him get used to the sensation. And then when Kevin begins to relax he pushes with a second finger, and a third, until the muffled whimpers have turned into moans.

"Shh," Connor reminds him, even though he knows that Kevin is probably even more aware of their surroundings than Connor is. "Try to keep that down."

“Well, it's _your_ fault," Kevin mutters quietly, almost petulantly, bucking his hips to meet Connor's movements, and that is just one of those things that shouldn't be as sexy as it is, but seeing Kevin squirming under his touch like this is sending signals of direct pleasure down to the pit of his stomach. Especially when Kevin lets his forehead rest against the pillow as he lets out a low moan, and Connor knows that he has found _that_ spot. "Connor, please--"

Connor rests his free hand on Kevin's lower back, hoping it will be soothing. "Ready?"

" _Yes_."

And then Kevin whimpers again when Connor withdraws his fingers and he forgets himself and the idea to keep the sheets clean, dries them off the best he can. His own underwear feel painfully tight, and there is only a fleeting moment of self-consciousness before he simply tugs them off, balancing on his knees as he pulls them from his ankles. It is sweet to be released, and years of being told that masturbation is a sin can’t keep his hand away from his erection.

Kevin is hiding his face in his pillow, his body still mostly covered by the duvet, and something in Connor’s heart tugs at the sight. Maybe he shouldn’t have started this. Maybe this isn’t what Kevin needs, after all. He had wanted to help him relax, not overwhelm him. “Hey. You alright?”

Kevin shifts, seems to push his hips into the mattress, and Connor feels relieved as he understands. “Yes. Just, please--”

Connor leans forward to kiss his cheek, finally tugging the duvet away. “Got it.”

He spends a moment feeling almost terrified, because it truly has been a while, and even then, he has rarely been in this particular position. He knows how much Kevin requires control, usually, but he doesn’t know how to give it to him now. But maybe that’s not what he is looking for now. It certainly doesn’t seem like it, with the way he is squirming, raising his hips slightly, invitingly. The sight is better than Connor could have imagined, all pale skin, wiry muscles, well-shaped thighs, shivering with need.

Connor moves to straddle him, somewhat awkwardly, and positions himself with one hand on the base of his cock, the other resting on Kevin’s back. “Tell me if it hurts.”

“Mm.” Kevin whimpers into the pillow again, and his entire body seems to stiffen when Connor pushes himself inside, ever so slowly. It’s tight and it’s hot, and Connor holds his breath as he pauses, both to try and gain control over his own body and to give Kevin some time to adjust. Connor knows it all too well, and guesses that Kevin will feel almost overwhelmed by it.

But then Kevin starts to move his hips upwards, and Connor gasps at the feeling, almost certain that he is seeing actual stars, and that _has_ to be a permission to move, if anything. He does so, slowly, awkwardly, balancing on his knees and straining his thighs to do so while Kevin juts his hips up to meet his movements.

Kevin is beyond hiding his face now, it seems, pushing himself up on his elbows, one hand reaching under him to stroke himself, tilting his head back, and Connor sort of hates the position that they’re in, in a way, because he can’t even see Kevin’s face, can’t use it to discern what he is feeling at the moment. Is it pleasure? Is it still tension? But at least the sounds Kevin makes are positive, quiet gasps and moans until he takes to biting the knuckle of his free hand to keep himself from getting to loud.

“Oh my God,” Kevin says finally, brokenly, his back arches in an almost extreme way, and Connor realizes though his own pleasure that Kevin is coming while jerking his hips violently, both up and down, as though trying to escape the sensations at the same time as he is trying to push himself towards them. Finally he is merely trembling, no longer able to push his head up from the pillows, and Connor tries to be gentle, he really does, but he is so _close_ , it is physically painful.

He comes, and can barely move his hips fast enough to get a properly satisfying climax no matter how hard he tries. Kevin grunts beneath him from the force with which Connor is moving and it takes a moment of forcing his thoughts through what feels like grey cotton before he catches himself and slows down.

Finally he pulls out, grimacing at the slick feeling and can only imagine what Kevin is feeling at the moment. His hands gravitate towards his boyfriend’s naked back, tracing his fingers over the muscles apologetically. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kevin mutters tilting his head to the side, sounding tired. “Thanks. I—kind of needed that. I think.”

Connor looks around for anything to clean themselves off with and comes up short. “No Kleenex?”

Kevin lets out a quiet laugh. “Sorry, no.”

Connor sighs and dries his hands off on the sheets again. “I’m not going to the bathroom like this.”

“So put some clothes on.”

“What if I run into your parents? Or any of your brothers?” Connor shudders at the mere thought. “You go, if you want to clean up.”

Finally, Kevin rolls over to the side. There are pale streaks of cum on his belly where his t-shirt has ridden up, which he runs his fingers over. “This is disgusting.”

Connor allows himself to lie down beside him, curling towards the heat that Kevin offers. “Go clean yourself off then. And bring some Kleenex with you.”

For hygienic reasons they should probably both go, he thinks. But, well. Besides, he is entirely too comfortable to move right now. It is like every ounce of energy has left him, and the only thing he wants to do is to let himself drift into sleep, all curled up and with his legs entangled with Kevin’s.

This is the way things are supposed to be. It feels right.

“I can’t believe we did this in my parents’ house,” Kevin says quietly after a moment. Connor blinks, realizes that he had been drifting off. “In _this_ bed.”

“Is that… bad?” he asks sleepily, but with a stab of worry. This particular time he _had_ been the instigator, after all, but he doesn’t think that Kevin had really protested, had he?

“No,” Kevin says begrudgingly after a moment. “Not at all.” There is some tension in his voice, as though he wants to elaborate, but he doesn’t continue, and Connor knows when there is something he doesn’t want to talk about. So for now, he merely shuffles closer, tucks his head under Kevin’s chin, and waits until Kevin rests one arm over his body before he relaxes again and lets himself slip off for real.


End file.
